


Tales for Mettare

by KayleeArafinwiel



Series: B2MEM 2014 - Aragorn in the North [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The further adventures of Aragorn during his first winter in Arnor. Written for the "Winter Wonderland" B2MEM 2012 card, for B2MEM 2016: Memories. Mostly double drabbles, but some triple drabbles, and even triple-and-a-half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow

**B2MeM Challenge:** Winter Wonderland - B3 - Winter Wonderland, Riddle Me Writerly  
 **Format:** Drabble  
 **Genre:** family  
 **Rating:** Gen  
 **Warnings:** n/a  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
 **Pairings:** n/a  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain.  
 **Summary:** Aragorn joins his cousins for the Mettare celebrations, beginning with a riddle-game during the first snowfall.  
  
  
“I am greater than Eru, more evil than the Morgoth. The poor have me, the rich need me, and if you eat me, you'll die. What am I?”  
  
The young ones of Tâduin were starting up a riddle game, and ‘twas Halbarad who had posed the first one. Aragorn watched with interest. He had guessed the answer at once, of course, but as they huddled inside the lodge, protected from the chill of the snow outside, he wondered which of the little ones might guess it.  
  
“Nothing,” five-year-old Gilwen piped up, much to his surprise. “Nothing is greater than Eru or more evil than Morgoth. The poor have nothing, the rich need nothing, and of course if you _eat_ nothing, you die.” She shuddered at the thought. Her sister, Silivren, cuddled her close, and Halbarad gave the child an approving nod and a smile.  
  
“Well done, little starling. Who would have thought it?” His smile widened. “So now. You get to throw the first snowball of _Mettarë_!”  
  
Gilwen bounced up, black hair flying, and flew to Aragorn, tugging his hand. She ran ahead as he followed her out, and –  
  
_Splat!_  
  
The child’s snowball caught him in the chest. He laughed.


	2. Ice

**B2MeM Challenge:** Winter Wonderland - B4  
 **Format:** Drabble  
 **Genre:** family  
 **Rating:** Gen  
 **Warnings:** n/a  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
 **Pairings:** n/a  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain.  
 **Summary:** Aragorn finds out that ice is not only a nuisance during the winter, but can actually be useful.  
 ****

“Explain this to me again, please, Aunt,” Aragorn requested of his mother’s sister-in-law Dulinnis, once Aelfgifu of Rohan. He was studying the vessels that she and his Uncle Beren had brought to Taduin. Several of them contained a thick syrup, others contained cakes of a brown, grainy substance that smelled just as sweet. One of the clay jars of syrup was being heated over a fire, and Dulinnis’ children were gathering bowls of ice.

Dulinnis laughed. “Get on with you, lad, and help the children gather the ice! Then you will see!”

Bemused, Aragorn did as he was bid. He saw that the ice was being poured into a wooden trough, around which the children ranged. When it was heaped with clean ice, the boiling syrup was ladled over it; his eyes widened as it cooled into something he’d never seen before.

“It’s maple sweets, Aragorn! Come try it!” Drauchir, Uncle Beren’s youngest, advised him. The ten-year-old was greedily devouring it in sticky handfuls; Aragorn tore off a piece for his own, and his eyes lit up.

_Never did we have this in Imladris!_ He felt envious. Winter was mild in Elrond’s realm. If only he had grown up here…


	3. Icicle

**B2MeM Challenge:** B7 - Winter Wonderland   
**Format:** Drabble  
 **Genre:** family  
 **Rating:** Gen  
 **Warnings:** n/a  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
 **Pairings:** n/a  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain.  
 **Summary:** Aragorn muses some more on his past, until his melancholy mood is lifted by a hobbit's interruption.  
 ****

  
Icicles hung from the roof of the lodges, all around. Aragorn was always fascinated by them, _aeglos,_ these crystalline points were called. He thought of a long-ago weapon, also called _snow-point,_ true crystal and cold as ice, a harbinger of death. The spear itself was long rotted away, but the crystal point still sat on a velvet cushion in Elrond’s study.  
  
Someday, perhaps, it might be given use again – perhaps even by him. He shuddered, stroking a finger down the point of one particularly large icicle, long and deadly.  
  
 _“Tidings of comfort and joy…”_  
  
Aragorn was jolted from his melancholy thoughts of home – no, of _Imladris_ – by the singing of the hobbits Gandalf had brought. One lass, Sage Took, was asking his cousins when second breakfast would be! He laughed to himself. Second breakfast, indeed! One could not help but be comforted when hobbits were about! Now that he thought of it, he was rather hungry…  
  
“Trotter!” Sage shivered as she came to join him. “Second breakfast is cooking!”  
  
“Well, we cannot miss that!” Aragorn smiled faintly, following the lass back to the Mettare bonfire. What would Daernaneth Ivorwen have come up with to feed the village _and_ the hobbits?


	4. Snowdrift

**B2MeM Challenge:** Winter Wonderland - B14  
**Format:** Drabble  
**Genre:** family, hurt/comfort  
**Rating:** Gen  
**Warnings:** n/a  
**Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
**Pairings:** n/a  
**Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain. (In my headcanon, by Dunedain custom (Iroquois system), Gilraen's sister is also Aragorn's 'mother' and her daughter is Aragorn's 'sister')  
**Summary:** Aragorn's winter adventures take a surprising turn for the young Chieftain...  
****

  
Second breakfast, as it turned out, was bowls of porridge laden with the sweet stuff Aragorn had seen Aunt Dulinnis bring in – maple sugar! On top of the maple candy they had consumed earlier, he found it rather too sweet for his taste, but he would not gainsay his little cousins such a Yuletide treat.  
  
Nessanie, Gilraen’s sister, laughed. “Trust in me, _ion nin._ Out in the snow, you will be picked first for their teams, I am sure!”  
  
“Teams, _Naneth?”_ he asked, canting his head to one side.  
  
“They will want you for their snowbank race!” She chuckled and kissed her sister’s son – her son by custom – before rising to wash her bowl. Meril, Nessanie’s daughter, laughed and pulled Aragorn to his feet. “Come, brother, we must not let the little ones beat us!”  
  
That was how Aragorn, son of Arathorn, found himself sliding down the highest snowbank in the village – only to tumble off ere he and Meril reached the bottom!  
  
“Aragorn!” Meril cried. “Where does it hurt?” The young Chieftain, curled in a heap, moaned as his sister soothed him.  
  
“I’ll get Auntie Darwisa,” Gilwen called, running to find the Haradric-born healer.  
  
Aragorn had twisted his ankle.


	5. Ice Crystals

**B2MeM Challenge:** B15 -Winter Wonderland   
**Format:** Drabble  
 **Genre:** family, hurt/comfort  
 **Rating:** Gen  
 **Warnings:** n/a  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
 **Pairings:** n/a  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain.  
 **Summary:** Aragorn is cared for in Auntie Darwisa's lodge.  
 ****

  
The young Chieftain was carried to Auntie Darwisa’s lodge. Ice crystals sparkled on the walls outside, but it was quite unlike the others inside. It more closely resembled a Haradri nomad’s tent in its decoration. Camel-hair rugs carpeted the floor and bunches of healing herbs hung from the ceiling. He was settled on the pallet that would serve him for a bed, and Auntie Darwisa removed his boots and leggings carefully.  
  
Aragorn blushed at the exposure, but the lodge was warm and steamy, buffeted from the cold outside by pots of hot water and the insulating hides which covered the walls. He allowed her to wrap him in a rough blanket and begin tending to his injury.  
  
“All that sliding nonsense,” the old woman huffed. “It is a wonder you did not break your head, young lord! By the Moon Lord, I vow I have never seen children grow so foolish as they do when it snows!” She shook her head, and boiled a bitter brew for Aragorn. “This will help the pain grow less,” she told him.  
  
Eighteen years of learning obedience to one’s healer pushed aside Aragorn’s reluctance, and he drank with a shudder. How he hated this!


	6. Iced Over

**B2MeM Challenge: I16 -** Winter Wonderland  
 **Format:** Drabble  
 **Genre:** family, hurt/comfort  
 **Rating:** Gen  
 **Warnings:** n/a  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
 **Pairings:** n/a  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Takes place during "Winter in Arnor", during Aragorn's first winter with the Dunedain.  
 **Summary:** Aragorn is finally permitted to leave. **  
**

  
By the time elevenses had come around (as noted by the reliable hobbits they were hosting), Aragorn was restless. He nibbled on a soft roll stuffed with meat and cheese, inhaling the scent of lotus that hung heavy in the air. It put him in mind of exotic places, lands he meant to see when he was older.

“Lands you never _will_ see, foolish boy, if you do not keep your safety in mind!” Auntie Darwisa huffed when he told her. She sighed and re-dressed him, giving him a crutch to lean on as he was helped from the bed.

With the aid of the crutch, Aragon limped from the lodge back out into the snow. He made his way to the chief lodge of the village, with the emblem of the Sceptre worked into the wood. _Home,_ he thought, and let the deerskin flap fall shut behind him with a grateful sigh. He wouldn’t be joining the young ones in more games just yet – though the river was thickly iced over, he had no desire to fall again!


	7. Snowed In

**B2MeM Challenge:** Winter Wonderland - I17  
  
 **Format:** drabble (double drabble, like the others)  
  
 **Genre:** family  
  
 **Rating:** G  
  
 **Warnings:** N/A  
  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
  
 **Pairings:** N/A  
  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Taithir (OC) is the husband of Arathorn's (OC) sister Brennil, and at this time, the tutor for the children of the village. In time, his nephew Idhrenor (Aragorn's double cousin) will take over.  
  
 **Summary:** As Aragorn's convalescence continues, a storm blows in...  
  
 ****

The days of Aragorn’s convalescence passed slowly, into the new year. The Hobbits left, but winter stayed. The snow piled up, and eventually, the village of Tâduin found itself snowed in as another blizzard raged. Aragorn found himself still lying abed, feeling miserable and useless as his ankle slowly mended.

When the storm finally ceased, they had to dig their way out of the lodges to get anywhere. Aragorn wasn’t up to the task, though thankfully his uncles were present to lend a hand – women took their part, too, and finally a solid tunnel of snow was formed from the mouths of the lodges to the icy river. The overflow of clean snow was packed away in underground vessels; it could be used when water was scarce.

Finally, the snow was at a more manageable level, and Auntie Darwisa pronounced Aragorn healed. He was doubly grateful to walk out of the lodge unsupported, and look over the white fields unencumbered by pain. His uncle Taithir would now resume lessons, and Aragorn found himself eager to learn alongside the young ones. There was much yet he had yet to discover about his own people!


	8. Snow-capped

**B2MeM Challenge:** Winter Wonderland - I21  
  
 **Format:** drabble (triple drabble, this time - Aragorn's cousins got out of hand xD)  
  
 **Genre:** family  
  
 **Rating:** G  
  
 **Warnings:** mention of death, nothing graphic  
  
 **Characters:** Aragorn, OCs  
  
 **Pairings:** N/A  
  
 **Creators' Notes (optional):** Taithir (OC) is the husband of Arathorn's (OC) sister Brennil, and father of Thalanir. At this time, he is the tutor for the children of the village. In time, his nephew Idhrenor (Aragorn's double cousin) will take over. I've previously shown a lesson of Taithir's in ["A Midsummer Lesson"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1257436/chapters/2588863), part of "Summer in Taduin", and also in the chapter that followed it.  
  
 **Summary:** Aragorn returns to lessons.  
 ****

  
“Long and long ago, in the days when first the Noldor returned to the Hither Shores,” Taithir said, “they settled the land called _Nevrast,_ Turgon’s first kingdom _._ It was divided from the land of Hithlum by the Ered Lómin, which curved north and west toward the Helcaraxë.”  
  
“The Helcaraxë was _cold!_ ” Idhrenor shivered – as well he might, for Thalanir had slipped a handful of snow down his back!  
  
Taithir looked disapprovingly at his son. “ _Thalanir.”_  
  
“I am sorry, Master.” Thalanir rose and bowed respectfully to his father, as he had seen Aragorn do before. “Sorry, Idhrenor,” he added to the other boy, who shot him a baleful look, but forgave him.  
  
Taithir fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of all the ridiculous nonsense. “As I was _saying,_ eventually, Turgon abandoned Nevrast and moved further east with his people, a mix of Noldor and Sindar, to forge a new kingdom, surrounded by the Encircling Mountains. Do you remember the name of Turgon’s kingdom?”  
  
“Nargothrond,” guessed Thalanir. Idhrenor batted the back of his cousin’s head. “No, _Gondolin.”_  
  
“Ondolindë,” Aragorn said quickly. Thalanir and Idhrenor turned to stare at their elder cousin and Chieftain.  
  
“What?” they chorused.  
  
 _"Ondolindë_ was the name by which the kingdom was first known,” Aragorn said, “that is, the Rock of the Music of Water. It is also the name by which we called it in Imladris, for our Captain had a…dislike of its Sindarin name, and so it was not spoken.”  
  
“Why would he dislike _Gondolin?_ ” Idhrenor asked curiously, frowning. A gleam of wry amusement flashed in Master Taithir’s eyes at that. How would Aragorn answer?  
  
“It was in _Ondolindë_ ,” Aragorn repeated, “on the day of the Gate of Summer, that the kingdom fell – and so did he. Yet, Lord Glorfindel returned, while Ondolindë is no more.”  



	9. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After lessons, Aragorn's cousins take to the ice.

 

After Taithir dismissed his pupils, the younger children headed for the frozen-over swimming hole. Aragorn followed at a more sedate pace, hand in hand with Meril. He had grown to enjoy having a sister over these months, he found. It was common enough for the children of Arnor to have prospective matches thrust their way, but Meril would never be offered to him, and so he felt completely at ease in her company.  
  
“What is everyone doing?” he asked her, as he watched them crowd before what appeared to be another snowbank. (He shuddered – no more snowbank slides for _him!_ ) Meril laughed as they reached the crowd. Aragorn could see better, now; there was a _door_ built into the hill that his cousins had been trying to force open! They had managed it, and now were carrying out – were those _boots?_ He frowned, for though they looked like riding boots, the piece of antler or bone lashed to the bottom of each told him they would be no use for riding or walking.  
  
“Those are ice skates, brother. Perhaps you had best not try them, yet,” Meril laughed. She hung back with him, watching as the younger cousins fastened on their skates and took to the ice. He marveled at how well they moved. Truly, their grace was nearly Elven! They could even _dance,_ twirling lightly and leaping across the frozen surface, tracing figures that were a great marvel.  
  
Perhaps, after all, he would try it – but not this day.


	10. Sledding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the youngsters of Tâduin come together for their sled race, Aragorn does not plan to partake. However, plans may change…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niben, the miller’s son, is new for this story.

Later that afternoon, the sleds were brought out. Aragorn watched warily as they were dragged to the top of the hill; he had no intention of tumbling down that snowbank again! But when he felt a tug on his leather breeches, and a shy, “Chieftain, sir?” he turned to look at the rosy-faced, hopeful seven-year-old who wanted his attention.  
  
It was true he’d spent most of his time with his nearest kin, those most closely related to the King’s Line, but he had taken note of the other children of Tâduin, too, who claimed descent from other families of Arnor. This lad came from the clan of the Bear – he vaguely remembered rumours one of the Two Rivers folk had wedded a shape-shifter from the Vales of the Anduin some generations ago. He was Niben, the miller’s younger son. “Mae govannen, Master Niben,” he greeted the child. “May I help you with something?”  
  
“Will you ride with me on my sled?” Niben asked, looking half afraid Aragorn would say ‘no’. “Da says you’ve not been long healed, but she’s solid built.” He sounded quite proud of the little sled, and Aragorn’s resolve crumbled. He couldn’t say no to this one.  
  
“You are sure it will carry one of my size?”  
  
“Oh yes, sir, Da built it for my brother and me, and he’s eighteen. It takes two to ride.”  
  
Yes, Aragorn was sure that’s what the lad had been told, likely so he didn’t tumble off and injure himself. He smiled faintly. “Very well, Master Niben. I will ride your sled.”  
  
When the pair took to the hill, Niben’s sled flew past all the rest, Aragorn’s hands curling into the side-rails. He tried not to panic. _I will not fall off.._.  
  
“We won!” Niben’s face was more radiant than Anor.


	11. Gale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aragorn accompanies Niben back to the Bear Clan's lodge, and meets the lad's grandmother, Beremes...

Aragorn smiled to see the joy on Niben’s face. But the wind which had helped propel their sleds so swiftly down the hill whipped up, and the young Chieftain had learnt enough about winter in Arnor to be wary. Indeed, all the children were hurrying to put their sleds away.

 

Aragorn hurried Niben along to the Bear clan’s lodge. It was not far; before long, boy and young man were situated inside. It was not unlike that belonging to Aragorn’s family; long and narrow, lined with bunks along the walls and various belongings hanging up. As the deerskin flap fell shut behind them, a plump, matronly woman ran to tie it shut.

 

“Niben! Where have you been?” she scolded the child, and Niben’s cheeks were now red with more than cold.  
  
“Sorry, Daernaneth – I didn’t realise the wind would rise so fast!”  
  
“Hmph,” she muttered, and reached out to smooth the boy’s hair down. “Go and lie down. Out in such a gale is no place for a boy like you!”  
  
“Can my new friend share my bunk?” Niben asked with a mischievous grin.  
  
The woman blinked in the smoky haze, as if realising Niben was accompanied for the first time. “Who…oh, my lord, I do beg your pardon!” She bobbed a hasty curtsey.  
  
It was Aragorn’s turn to blush. “Truly, good mistress, I am not offended.”  
  
“My name is Beremes, my lord,” she replied with a smile. “Please, accept Niben’s offer. This gale will not blow itself out for some time yet.”  
  
“Thank you, Mistress Beremes. You may call me Aragorn.”

 

Beremes nodded, and made sure the young Chieftain was settled comfortably alongside her small grandson. She drew up the doeskin coverlet, and returned to stoking the fire; the lodge would need to be kept warm!

 

As the boy slept, his shivering form sprouted its coat of dark fur against the cold. Beremes smiled faintly; Grimbeorn’s sister she was, and her children had their gift. The Chieftain would soon learn of it! _That_ would certainly surprise him, she thought – but the young lord could do with a few surprises.  



	12. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aragorn begins his acquaintance with other members of the Bear clan, as the storm outside increases...

Aragorn woke some hours later. He realised he was not in his own bed; the boy’s bow and arrows on the wall were far smaller than his own. There was a small form cuddled up against him, under the deerskin – Niben’s, he realised. There was something _wrong_ about the shape snuggled against him, though. Aragorn peeked under the deerskin, then gave a shout of surprise.   


Aragorn tried not to stare, as he backed away from the bed. His shout had roused all the occupants of the lodge – all wearing bear-shape as they tumbled from their bunks!  
  
The eldest of the lot, a she-bear gone grey with age, flowed up into human form, to reveal she was Beremes. Others there were – grown bears, half-grown, mere cubs – all resuming their human forms as they regarded their Chieftain. The nearest man swept Niben into his arms, cuddling the boy.   
  
“My lord,” he said, deep brown eyes glinting with humour. “As you can see, we of the Bear clan have good reason to be called so. I promise, you have naught to fear from me and mine. I am Gronir, son of Beremes, at your service.”  
  
“Master Gronir,” Aragorn said, dipping his head to the miller. “I am very much at your service. I fear I shall not be going anywhere until the blizzard has ended.”  
  
“Quite.” Gronir looked as though he wished to laugh. “Well, let us hope it does not last too long; the Lord Dirhael would have my skin for a rug if I kept his grandson!”  
  
“Papa!” Niben protested. “Lord Dirhael _wouldn’t!”_  
  
“No, Lord Dirhael certainly would not,” Aragorn reassured the boy, knowing Niben hadn’t understood Gronir’s jest.  
  
“He had better not.” The grim-faced youth who stepped forward now was clearly Niben’s adored brother, who the boy had mentioned to Aragorn – Niben wriggled free from his Papa’s arms and ran to him.  
  
“He _won’t,_ Grodor! He won’t, Lord Aragorn _said_ so, and he knows,” Niben said firmly. Grodor nodded, and ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, softening.

“As my lord says, then,” the youth murmured.

Outside, the blizzard raged.


	13. Winter Festivities

The blizzard lasted for three days, and Tâduin was half-buried in snow by the time it was done. The Bear clan were perfect hosts. Aragorn became accustomed to sharing Niben’s bunk, and by the time the storm had blown itself out he felt far more comfortable with Beremes’ family. Still, he was glad to be released from forced isolation. On the fourth day he set to work with a will, aiding Beremes’ family.   
  
They went from lodge to lodge in bear-shape, Aragorn following behind. They assisted the other clans of the Dúnedain; the bath-houses were opened, and ere long life returned to normal. On the sixth day, Lord Dírhael and Aragorn declared a festival to celebrate their survival of the great snows, and the games began.  
  
Aragorn learned a new game; a line was drawn in the hard-packed snow, poles were brought out, and he took turns with the other young men and women, casting a carved, polished stick along the snow to see whose would fly farthest. The snow-serpents, for so they were called, flew faster than the young Chieftain expected – and his flew furthest of all.  
  
Hallatan and Halbarad led the cheering as their kinsman’s feat was acclaimed.


	14. Winter Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story-teller, Master Rumil, arrives and begins to spin a chilling tale. (This (first?) story is adapted from "Frost" in "Old Peter's Russian Tales" and will take up at least the next few chapters).

The story-teller, Master Rúmil, came to Tâduin the next day. He gathered the children about him; Aragorn eyed the Man in some fascination. An aging man even by Dúnedain account, dressed in hunters’ leathers, his bow slung over his back, Rúmil wouldn’t have occasioned a second glance from the Rangers. But there was something…different about him, even so. He had an…aura about him that drew his listeners.  
  
As Rúmil settled by the fire and drew forth his two belt-pouches, Aragorn watched closely. Rúmil scattered a pinch of sweet herbs on the fire from one pouch, then opened the other. It was filled with random small objects, to remind him of his stories. “What story shall I tell you, my children?” the old Man asked. “Let us see…” He plunged his hand into his bag and withdrew a snowflake, carved from crystal. “Ah! So, the tale of Lord Frost, is it?”   
  
The children cheered.  
  
“Listen, my children, and I will tell you the tale of Lord Frost. Once upon a time, on the outskirts of Fornost lived a poor wood-cutter and his sister. They had two daughters between them; the man’s wife had died when her daughter was a babe, and the woman’s husband had perished as well, so they kept house together in the woman’s lodge in relative peace. They were not happy, though, for though their daughters were old enough to wed, none would ask for them.”

 

“Because they were poor?” Gilwen chimed in.  
  
“Yes, but that was not all. The woman’s daughter was sharp of tongue and quick to anger. The man’s daughter was kind and good, but none would court her for fear of her cousin’s temper,” Rúmil explained. “The food began to run low, and the man’s sister said, “Look, brother, our daughters must really find husbands, and I have found one for your daughter. Take her out to the woods on her sledge and leave her there, for I mean her to wed Lord Frost. See how rich he is, clothing all the trees in silver and diamonds!”

 

Aragorn was shocked. “The girl would die!”


	15. Frostbite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Rúmil continues the tale of Lord Frost.

Master Rúmil looked at Aragorn. “Well, we shall see what we will see, shall we not, my lord?”

“Yes, Master,” Aragorn said respectfully, giving the Man a bow. Rúmil nodded acceptance to the young Chieftain’s words, and continued his tale.

“The man feared his daughter would die, too. Out in the chilly winds, in her old cloth tunic and skirt, the girl would no doubt succumb. But, his sister was his elder and he lived on her sufferance; he had no choice but to do as she bade.”

“I think she was horrible,” Drauchir said stoutly. Aragorn put a comforting arm around his Uncle Beren’s son, giving the child a squeeze. “Fear not, Little Wolf,” he whispered, “but hush and listen, for I wish to hear how this tale ends.” 

“So,” Master Rúmil said once all was quiet, “the wood-cutter placed his daughter Melyanna on her sledge, and pulled her along down the old track into the woods. Oh, how the wind howled! But though they were both frightened, the man walked until he had got to the clearing where he gathered wood. ‘For’, he thought, ‘if nothing else my little Anna can strike a light to warm herself.’ He started to build a fire, but Melyanna shook her head.

“No, please. If Lord Frost is my bridegroom, he will not come near me where there is fire,” she said. “Go home to Auntie and tell her you have done your task.” 

The wood-cutter bowed his head solemnly. “I pray to Eru that Lord Frost will treat you gently, my dear,” he said softly. “For I know how well he can bite.” 

“So Melyanna was left all alone in the woods,” Meril said softly, and Master Rúmil nodded. “Was Lord Frost kind to her?”

“He’s not kind, if he bites!”


	16. Hypothermia

That last was spoken by a tearful Silivren, as Gilwen wept in her arms. Amdir and Fanuilos comforted their children as best they could, but their girls were only seven and five winters, after all.

Master Rúmil waited patiently. “Now then, little maids, it is a story,” he reminded them gently. “If you wish, you may retire to your beds; you do not have to hear how it ends.”

“We’re brave,” Silivren said, seven-year-old dignity wounded. 

“I have no doubt of that,” Master Rúmil replied, smiling faintly. Fanuilos took Silivren in her lap. Amdir was holding their son, Curunthor, so that left Gilwen for a bemused Aragorn. 

“Pray go on, Master,” Aragorn said when all was settled. Rúmil nodded and continued his tale.

“Well, then. Melyanna was left quite alone, and soon she began hearing the wailing of the wind and crackling made by Lord Frost as he jumped from tree to tree. “Are you warm, little maid?” Lord Frost called out to her. “Are you warm, little red-cheeks?”

Melyanna was faint and felt herself quite frozen. Though she was shivering so her teeth rattled, she called back, “Warm, Lord Frost, I am quite warm,” for she did not wish to complain.

Lord Frost came. He felt pity on Melyanna, and wrapped her in soft furs, showering her with gold, jewels and other rich presents, until she looked like a princess. Her shaking stilled, and she went to sleep. When she woke, her father was there, relieved to have found her alive and well. He took her home, where her aunt and cousin were shocked to see her alive.” 

“I knew they wanted to kill her,” Meril muttered.

“Well, then,” Master Rúmil said, “the aunt and cousin – Acairis, the girl’s name was – they were very jealous of Melyanna. So, the aunt looked at Acairis, and looked at her niece, and said, “If Lord Frost likes you so well, he will like my own dear daughter even better.” She made ready all that day to send Acairis to the wood. When the time came, she wrapped Acairis in her warmest blanket.”


	17. Chilly Winds

The children attended raptly to Master Rúmil’s story as he continued to speak. “The wood-cutter took his niece into the woods to meet Lord Frost. “Now, when Lord Frost comes, mind you speak respectfully to him,” he said quietly, for he loved his niece despite her bad temper. He did not wish ill to befall her.

“You cannot tell me what to do, old man,” she sneered back, and with a sigh, the wood-cutter returned home. Well, before long the chill heightened as the wild wind soared through the trees, and Lord Frost neared, crackling his way through the branches. Acairis pulled her blanket round her, trying to keep out the cold, but to no avail.

“Are you warm, little maid? Are you warm, little red-cheeks?” Lord Frost called. Acairis ignored everything her uncle had told her, and answered angrily,

“Ugh, Frost, why must you ask such stupid questions? I am freezing, and I have only come to get the gifts you gave to my cousin.” 

Well, Lord Frost was not impressed at all with that answer. When he came up to her, he had no pity on the girl. So cold a night it was, that when the wood-cutter came to fetch his niece in the morning, he found her frozen stiff from Lord Frost’s attentions. When Melyanna’s father came back with Acairis, dead, his sister flew into such a rage! She would have beaten Melyanna and turned her out of doors, but the wood-cutter defended his daughter. 

“Sister,” he said, “it was your idea for our daughters to meet Lord Frost.” He frowned. “My daughter earned her reward by behaving well and kindly, and your daughter earned her reward for rude and disrespectful behavior. I will endeavor to discover a proper husband for my daughter.”

“Wretch of a brother,” the sister replied, “how dare you blame this on me? I shall turn you both out of my lodge!” They were fighting, and someone might have been truly hurt, if a knock at the door had not distracted them. Melyanna ran to the door, to see who was there…”


	18. Winter Cloak

“Who was there?” the children chorused. Niben bounced on his heels. “Who was it?” he begged Master Rúmil. The Man laughed. “Well, let me get on with telling you, little ones! So, Melyanna ran to the door, and called out, “Who is there?” 

“A traveller in need of shelter,” came the answer. So, good Melyanna opened the door, and a handsome young man entered. He was dressed in hunting leathers, but had a warm winter cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and a silver circlet crowned his brow. On his sledge was a deer carcass, dressed and readied for the stew pot. He offered the wood-cutter the meat in exchange for sheltering him, and was readily accepted.

The young man looked at Melyanna, and was struck by her beauty. She was taken with the kindness of his smile, and asked his name. “My name is Eärendur,” he replied. “I have been hunting with my men, but we were separated by the sudden storm last night. What is your name, mistress?”

“M-Melyanna, my lord,” Melyanna managed to stammer out. “You are Prince Eärendur!” 

“Well…yes,” Eärendur replied, his cheeks flushed with more than cold. “I heard shouting as I came to the door,” he said, to distract Melyanna from the fact of his identity. 

“My auntie wished me to be wedded to a rich man, and she chose Lord Frost,” Melyanna replied. When Prince Eärendur raised an eyebrow, and asked for the rest of the story, she told it to him as I have told it to you – though probably better. For you know, it was her story, and I am an old Man,” Master Rúmil added. 

“When she had told him all her story, to the dismay of her poor father and anger of her wicked aunt, Prince Eärendur spoke. “I have been asked to find a wife, too,and I promised my dear mother I would never wed until I found a wife as kind and good as she was. Will you come with me, Melyanna, and be my Princess? Surely your aunt cannot complain of the life I can give you.”


	19. Furred Boots

“I would be your Queen someday,” Melyanna said slowly. “Me, a wood-cutter’s daughter?”

“Your birth matters not, sweet Melyanna – and your father is a fine wood-cutter, I daresay.” Eärendur smiled on his host. “I would be honoured if you would consent. Your father would come with us.”

That was what had worried dear Melyanna most, you see, leaving her father behind. Reassured that he would stay, she said “Yes,” without a moment’s hesitation. “But,” she added, “we must also bury my cousin, for she was as a sister to me.”

“How good you are, my princess,” Eärendur replied, and clasped her hands. “When my men come, we will have her funeral.”

They raised Acairis’ barrow at the back of the lodge. Within it, the good Melyanna placed a few of her gold trinkets from Lord Frost; then she shod her cousin’s feet in furred boots, that the journey to Mandos might not chill her. She had heard tales of its dread Lord, who only aided mortals into the Presence, but who knew what the path would be like…

The Prince’s men were reunited with them as Eärendur helped Melyanna lay her cousin to rest. A blanket of black earth and white snow covered the grave-mound at last, and Eärendur turned to greet his men, introducing them to his bride and telling them all her tale. At the back of the group was a tall Man, grave and stern, with a silver fillet like a star on his brow. He waited until the prince had fallen silent, then stepped forward, and embraced Eärendur. 

“Your men returned to me when they could not find you, senya. I rode out with them, and here you are at last,” he said. Well, the old woman was thunderstruck, but the wood-cutter and Melyanna gave him their obeisance, knowing he was the King, brave Elendur. The King bade them be at ease, and embraced Melyanna. “So, you are the maiden my son has chosen,” he said, looking at her. “Then be welcome, daughter, you and your father both.” He looked rather more disinclined to favor the old woman. “This lodge is your right, and your daughter yours to mourn,” he said finally. “I will not take you from her. But nor will I welcome you within Fornost’s walls, not while my son and I yet live. So here you are, and here you may remain.”

When all was ready, they returned to the King’s House in the city of Fornost, and there Eärendur and Melyanna were wedded. In time, she bore him three sons as strong and handsome as himself. But that, you know, is another story.” Rúmil tossed another pinch of herbs on the fire.


End file.
